


An Emptiness in Me

by elless



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elless/pseuds/elless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's been waiting for Arthur's return for a thousand years but when it finally happens, it's not anything like what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Thanks to S for the beta and putting up with my Merlin ramblings.  
> 2\. This was supposed to be a quick story with short snippets. It just kept growing and growing. It's still snippets but many more than I thought there'd be.

_For when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again._

 

Merlin sits at his desk, grading papers for his Intro to Medieval Lit class. He's attempting to, at any rate. It's only a couple weeks into the fall semester, and he hasn't quite gotten into the rhythm of it yet. He keeps getting distracted by the view out his window, watching the students walk past or pause by the giant oak tree to read or joke around. The sun is shining, beckoning him to abandon his work and go outside. It's growing considerably harder to concentrate.

He hears someone come into his office but doesn't turn around. It's probably Dr. Mackenzie or Mia to steal his leftover coffee like every afternoon.

"Um, Dr. Adams?" says an unfamiliar voice, and Merlin pauses in writing notes on a student’s paper. "Dr. Reznick said you'd help me with the copier? The thing hates me and is always jamming or just generally being an ass, and I need these copies for Reznick's next class."

"Sure," Merlin says, happy to have another, legitimate, excuse to put off grading some more. "I'll see what––"

The words catch in his throat as he turns around and sees the man standing awkwardly in his doorway. His short hair glows golden in the sunshine, faint stubble shadowing a perfect jaw. Clear blue eyes regard him curiously, and Merlin feels suddenly dizzy from how hard his heartbeat is thundering in his ears. It's him, improbably, impossibly. It's Arthur shifting impatiently in front of him. He's older than most TA's, in his late 20's or early 30's, a bit younger than Merlin. Or at least how old Merlin appears. It’s exactly like Arthur looked before the end. Merlin drinks him in, eyes tracing the familiar curve of his lips, the straight line of his nose, the tilt of his eyebrows that seems to say _you're an idiot, Merlin_.

 _Arthur_.

He's not aware he said that aloud until the other man corrects him with a puzzled, "Uh, no. Jake actually. About that copier?"

Merlin internally shakes himself and gets up. He wants to rush at Arthur and touch him everywhere, assure himself that he's real and alive and not just a mirage or dream. A wish long-held somehow conjured by his magic. He holds himself in check, though barely.

"Right. Demon copier in need of slaying. I can handle that."

Arthur smiles at him crookedly, though he still seems a little unsure and hesitant about Merlin.

They walk down the hall to the supply closet in silence. There are a million things Merlin wants to ask. _Where have you been? What took you so long? Why don't you remember me?_ He keeps it all inside and sneaks looks at Arthur out of the corner of his eye.

The copier is indeed jammed. Badly.

"How did you even get it this cocked up?" he asks, watching as the machine shudders in place, beeping and flashing several error messages.

"I'm, uh, not very good with electronics," Arthur says, sheepish, and with the grimace that usually accompanied him admitting to any kind of failure.

Merlin resists letting out the duh that's trapped behind his teeth.  

"I'll get it going in no time." 

Between the two of them, they manage to get out all the bits of paper stuck in various places. When Arthur grunts in irritation and Merlin laughs, Arthur ducks his head and grins, embarrassed.

"So, uh––" 

"Jake. Jake Callahan." 

"Jake, right. Has Dr. Reznick been treating you all right?" 

"Oh, yeah, she's great. She talks about you a lot." 

Merlin arches an eyebrow, then turns away so Arthur won't see his eyes go gold. A small amount of magic flows into the copier as he pretends to press a couple buttons. The beeping and flashing stop, and Arthur sends him an impressed look.

"Oh, wow. Thank you, Dr. Adams."

"Merlin, please. And maybe you should, uh, give me whatever you need copied so we don't have to go through this again."

"Oh. Good point. Thirty copies of this, collated, please. I'm already running late and don't have time to sort them."

"Sure."

When Arthur hands him a small stack of papers, their fingers brush. It's brief, just a momentary contact, but it hits Merlin like he suddenly has ice for blood. His whole body tingles, breaking out into goose bumps, and his heart sings with the realization that he's not imagining things. This is Arthur, risen at last.

Merlin stops breathing for one terrifying moment.

&&&

Merlin drops into the chair at his desk and pulls the mobile out of his pocket with shaky fingers. It takes three tries to punch the correct numbers to call Leon. His cheery "Hello, Merlin!" goes a long way to calm the frantic beating of Merlin's heart.

"I need you to come pick me up," he tells Leon, surprised he can get the words out at all.

"Merlin, what's wrong?" His voice is full of concern and worry, and it transports Merlin back to all those times he let his grief control him and Leon was the one to save him.

"Just come. Please." 

"Of course. On my way." 

Merlin hits end, then lets the phone slide onto the desk, thumping loudly. He looks around helplessly, like this office is someplace new and hasn't been his office for the past four years. His eyes fall on the stack of ungraded papers, but he leaves them there, unable to concentrate on any one thing. Luckily, his classes are done for the day and he doesn't have office hours. He can go home with Leon and process what happened. And freak out, most likely.

Swallowing, he curls his left hand into a fist, as if to preserve the fleeting touch of Arthur's fingers.

Merlin hasn't felt his king's skin in so long, and now he just wants more.

&&&

Merlin spent the first 70 years after Arthur's death alone, though he ached to see Gaius and Gwen and everyone again. However, he couldn't bear to be in Camelot without Arthur, so he never went back. How do you go on when everything you've lived for is gone?

He talked to few people and only as necessity dictated, when he needed food or other supplies. He avoided the patrols of knights that came near his cabin in the woods and used protective spells to hide from the druids that looked for him.

The grief was sharp and ever-present in those early years. He mostly slept or practiced small, needless spells, anything to distract his mind. Only ate when the hunger got so acute that he was weak and trembling, eyesight blurry and stomach cramping.

At first, he dwelled on what went wrong, what he could've done differently, ways he could've saved Arthur. Maybe if he'd killed Morgana earlier or helped her, or never saved Mordred as a boy. If he'd told Arthur about his magic sooner, if he hadn't told so many lies, if he hadn't listened to Kilgarrah or listened to him more. So many, endless possibilities, and it was years before he stopped picking at the scabs of his mistakes.

&&&

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Leon says as he walks into Merlin's office.

Hysterical laughter bubbles out of Merlin at that. The irony makes his heart clench painfully, and he bites his lip hard to distract himself.

"Merlin, what happened?"

"I don't––" He clamps his mouth shut and wipes away tears with a shaky hand.

"Jesus, Merlin."

When he glances up, Leon's kneeling in front of his chair, a hand on Merlin's leg. He looks more concerned than Merlin's seen him in a really long time.

After a couple minutes of breathing slowly through his nose, he manages to pull himself together to say, "I'll tell you at home. Can we just go?"

Leon nods and stands up. Merlin follows, slinging his bag over his shoulder, then stuffing his hands in his pockets so Leon won't notice how much they're trembling. Leon hovers close to him on the way to the car and for once, Merlin doesn't huff at his overprotectiveness. Leon is solid and steady and the only constant in Merlin's life besides his magic and his grief.

The ride home is quiet, though Merlin senses that Leon's itching to ask questions. As per usual, Leon starts fussing when they get inside, offering him food and drinks and probably a bath if Merlin didn't shut him up with a quiet "I saw Arthur today." Leon's mouth snaps shut before he sighs Merlin's name in a tone full of gentle pity. Merlin clenches his teeth.

"I'm not an idiot, Leon. It was _him_. Do you think I'd have a reaction like this if it weren't?"

"We've been through this before." Leon sits next to him on the couch and regards him seriously. "Several times, in fact. I know you miss him and I know you believe he'll come back someday and I hope that you're right. But you've been mistaken in the past."

" _No_ ," Merlin says harshly, and Leon blinks at him in surprise. "My magic," he explains, trying to moderate his tone. "I knew just by looking at him, but my magic recognized him when we touched. It is him."

"Oh. That's––" 

"He doesn't know me. His name is Jake, and he has no idea who he is."

"Shit." 

"Yeah." 

"What do we do?" 

Merlin puts his head in his hands and lets the shaking take over, leaning into the arm Leon wraps around his shoulders. "I don't know."

&&&

He would've retreated from the world long before this if not for Leon. He did before. He spent those first 70 years after Arthur’s death hiding in a remote cabin deep in the woods, heartsick and angry and wanting to lash out at everyone and everything. He let the world pass him by. Until Leon found him and brought him back from the brink, blinking into the sudden brightness, unaware of the changes, both good and bad, that had occurred throughout the years.

Leon fed him, took care of him. Coaxed him into facing reality, no matter how harsh and painful and sharp his grief still was.

At first, Leon reminded him too much of that day and Arthur, everything he'd lost. They were never close, he and Leon, though Merlin always trusted him with his life.

It took a long time, but now they're friends. The best. Merlin can't imagine his life without him.

They've lived all over the world, going back home when Merlin needs to feel connected to the earth there. He loves Australia and France and all the tiny islands scattered throughout the oceans.

They're back in America this time. It's a beautiful university town in the Midwest where he can revel in all the season changes. Where the legends of Arthur and Camelot are not so keenly remembered.

Leon hates the bitter winters here and prefers more temperate places, but it was Merlin's turn to choose. They've been in America before, the first time when it was a new, fledgling country and the streets were volatile and dangerous. The last time, during Prohibition, Merlin had indulged in a little too much moonshine, and Leon had somehow gotten himself elected mayor.

They've posed as many things in their time together––brothers, a lord and his servant, one brief time as father and son, though he's still not sure how they convinced anyone the truth of that.

They've had many names as well, adapting to what's popular at the time. Every once in a while, he takes the name Arthur, and Leon's sympathetic faces are worth feeling close to his Arthur again, even if it's fleeting.

Leon hasn't been his only companion. He's been married, had friends both powerful and mundane, and loved them all until it was time to move on. There was always the past, though, and the hole in his heart where the memory of Arthur lived, as sharp and painful as on the last day.

Merlin has been a teacher and a student, a physician, a writer, and an actor on the stage. They've been poor and living on the streets and they've owned mansions with dozens of servants.

Sometimes, Merlin tries to influence the world's events, curing sicknesses, negotiating peaceful ends to nations' squabbles. Mostly he simply tries to live, to go through one lifetime after another and not hold on too tightly to that hope of someday that forever nestles in his heart.

&&&

Merlin makes it two days before he breaks down and googles Jake Callahan. He doesn't learn much. Jake's 29, born somewhere in Pennsylvania. He graduated over the summer from a tiny liberal arts college in Virginia and wrote for the university paper, mostly sports but sometimes on plays or art shows. They're well written and amusing and so like the voice of Arthur in Merlin's head that he ends up crying while reading an article about the girls' basketball team.

He lasts another two days before he casually fishes for information from Mia. She's not much more help and eyes Merlin with a knowing expression, clearly aware of what Merlin's doing.

None of it does any good. None of it explains why Arthur's here, now.

He doesn't run into Arthur in that time. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. He wants to see Arthur again, of course, but he's still reeling from their first encounter. He needs more time. The irony isn't lost on him.

&&&

"Um, Dr. Adams?"

Merlin looks up at the tentative knock on his door. He's seen Arthur in the building a few times, but his stomach still turns over and lodges in his throat at the sight of Arthur standing in his doorway, an awkward twist to his mouth.

"Hi. Yeah. Um," Merlin says belatedly after staring at Arthur a beat too long.

"Sorry to bother you, but the copier-from-hell is pissed at me again. I could use your magic touch if you have the time."

Merlin chokes a little at that. "Oh. Sure, I can help."

Arthur nearly blinds him with a bright and grateful smile. "Thank you, Dr. Adams. I really appreciate it."

"No problem."

Merlin follows Arthur out the door and down the hallway, using the advantage to check out Arthur's ass and the play of muscles in his back. It's strange seeing him in modern clothes. After so long of keeping the memory of chain mail and soft tunics in his mind, it's dizzying to reconcile this new image of him.

Just like last time, the copier is beeping and flashing like it's having a fit. Merlin bites back a grin and steps up to the machine, searching for paper jams.

"What did you do to it this time?" 

Arthur shrugs, looking cross. "Breathed on it?" 

Laughing, Merlin unplugs the copier and waits several seconds before plugging it back in. He doesn't need his magic this time since Arthur hadn't messed it up quite as badly. Arthur sighs in relief when it whirs back to life and remains quiescent. After punching a few buttons, all the error messages stop.

"You are really good at that," Arthur tells him, and Merlin tries not to preen or melt under the praise.

"Try to be nice to it now, yeah?" 

"If it'll be nice to me!" 

"Just talk nicely to it. You want to tell me what copies you need today?"

Arthur hands off an article with a quick explanation. "Thank you, Dr. Adams. You keep saving me."

 _That's my job, saving you._ "You're welcome. And, please, call me Merlin."

"So your name really is Merlin?" Arching an eyebrow, Arthur grabs stacks of paper as the copier spits them out. "I thought Dr. Reznick was just screwing with me."

"No, it's Merlin," he laughs, catching a skeptical look from Arthur. "It's a bird in Wales, where I was born." At least where he lived for a time anyway. "And my parents may have possibly had high expectations for me."

"You're amazing with copiers at least."

"Why, thank you," Merlin says, sketching a brief bow like he never did for his king. Arthur would've rolled his eyes and called him idiot if he tried to bend knee to him. "Are you all set here?"

"Yeah. Thanks again. Merlin," he adds with a soft smile.

Merlin waits in the room until the ghost of that smile stops haunting him so much.

&&&

Over time, magic faded from the land, his along with it. He would never lose it completely. He is magic and therefore, a spark would always remain. He used it less and less. What need did he have of it when he was alone? When there were no magical creatures, no Morgana to defend Arthur against? Some things came naturally to him––moving objects, conjuring fire––and he still used these, often without thought.

There will always be those afraid of magic, that don't understand, that will be quick to persecute and hunt down. Merlin learned as a small boy to keep his ability hidden. It's a lesson he's carried with him throughout these long years.

&&&

Leon comes home in the middle of Merlin's research and brainstorming frenzy. There are books and maps and newspaper articles scattered across the floor, Merlin sitting in the middle of it with his laptop and several notebooks. There's an abandoned mug of tea by his left elbow, long gone cold. He has a pen clenched between his teeth and both hands clutched in his hair in a show of frustration he's never gotten rid of.

When Leon walks in and says hello, Merlin startles and nearly knocks over the tea.

"What's all this then?" he asks and shifts a couple maps of the Middle East so he can sit down opposite Merlin. He runs his gaze over everything and raises his eyebrows.

"Research." Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, Merlin starts gathering all the papers into a pile in his lap. They've been together long enough that he and Leon don't have many secrets from each other, but he's not in the mood for Leon’s overprotectiveness and need to take care of him.

"Research?" He figures it out quickly, of course. He wasn't Arthur's right-hand man for nothing,

"Yes," Merlin snaps, then sighs, dropping his head in his hands. "He's back. There has to be a reason, Leon. If I can figure out why––a global war, the apocalypse, whatever the fuck it is––then I can help him fight it. He can't do it alone. He'll need me."

"Merlin." 

He hates that note of pity in Leon's voice, always has.

There are times Merlin hates Leon. When he's weary and grief sneaks up to cut him off at the knees. When he wants to hide from the world again and he's tired of being himself. Because Leon won't let him. Leon knows that if he sinks into depression once more, he won't ever come back out. So Leon snaps him out of his despair with stupid jokes and a gentle smile. He lifts the bottle of whiskey out of Merlin's hand with softly chiding words and a shake of the head before Merlin can drown himself in alcohol. He forces Merlin outside when he tries to be anti-social.

In short, he's a thorn in Merlin's side, and right now he doesn’t want to deal with it.

Standing up, Merlin vibrates in place for a moment, not sure what he wants to do. He stuffs his hands in his pants pockets before pulling them back out and dropping to his knees and jerkily collecting everything off the floor. After a minute, Leon begins helping him.

"Kilgarrah said Arthur would rise again at Albion's greatest need." Merlin sits back on his heels, arms full of all the useless shit he's been poring over all day. None of it matters. None of it has given him the answers he seeks. It's useless and it makes him feel useless, helpless, and he has never, ever liked feeling like this when it comes to Arthur. It's his job, his destiny to serve Arthur and protect him. He hasn't felt this vulnerable in a really long time, and it's not pleasant.

"It's been over 1000 years, Merlin. I know better than anyone what he means to you and what you've been through. Maybe it's time you stopped worrying about Albion's need and started thinking about what you need, what you want. Who you want."

Merlin swallows. He doesn't have a response to that. It seems like he's never done anything for himself. He has no idea how to start. But maybe Leon's right. This could be their chance, his and Arthur's.

&&&

Merlin beams as Arthur sets a paper coffee cup onto his desk. He snatches the cup up and takes a sip. It's a little hot but still perfect––strong, sweet, and plenty of caffeine for the pick-me-up he definitely needs.

Somehow this has become their routine. Between their afternoon classes, Arthur buys them coffee from the cafe in the library, then they talk, usually about books or Arthur's grad classes. Merlin's learned a lot about Arthur and his life, while attempting to deflect the questions Arthur asks about him. He doesn't want to lie to Arthur––he had enough of that before––and when he can't tell him the truth, he moves the conversation to something else. If Arthur notices, he never says anything.

"Thank you," Merlin says, sighing as the caffeine hits his system. "I needed this."

"Tough day?" Arthur sits back in his chair crossing his ankles and resting his cup on his flat stomach. Merlin tries not to stare at Arthur's broad shoulders or the stubble darkening his perfect jawline.

"Nah. Just stayed up late reading, so I'm dragging a bit." 

"Glad I could help." 

They're quiet for a couple minutes while Merlin drinks his coffee and finishes a lesson plan for Monday's Medieval Lit class, but it's a comfortable silence. Eventually they start discussing _The Canterbury Tales_ , which Arthur had somehow avoided reading during his entire academic career. After much prodding and cajoling, Merlin had convinced him to pick it up. Actually, Merlin had taken his own copy off the bookshelf in his office and forced it into Arthur's hands, not letting him leave til he promised to read it. They've been tackling it tale-by-tale for a couple weeks now.

Talk eventually turns to their plans for the weekend. Merlin's consist of staying in sweats or track pants all day and watching mindless TV, camped out on the couch with Leon and takeaway. It was slightly pathetic but was always his favorite way to wind down after a week of teaching.

"My brother's coming Friday morning and staying through Sunday," Arthur says and makes a face, though he hides it behind his cup.

Merlin had been very happy to learn Arthur has a loving, stable family this time around.

"Which brother?" Merlin asks. "And what's with the grimace? I thought you got along with your brothers?"

"The older one, Paul. I love my brothers––" Again with the face. It’s adorable, and Merlin swallows a grin. "But I'm 29 and he sometimes still treats me like I'm five."

Merlin winces in sympathy. "I get that. Leon's my best friend and not even related to me, but he assumes the role of overprotective brother very easily."

"So you know how frustrating it is." At Merlin's emphatic nod, Arthur smiles crookedly. "I know I've screwed up my life a few times, but I've finally gotten myself straightened out. Yet Paul doesn't seem to fully realize that."

"I'm sorry. Maybe this weekend will change that."

Arthur shrugs a shoulder, then grins, and it brightens up Merlin's gloomy office. "He's worse with Emmett, though, since he's the baby, so I'm lucky. Anyway. It should be good. He wants to sit in on one of my lectures and see the town and then we'll just hang out, I guess. I think he just wants to make sure I can feed and clothe myself properly because no one's seen me since I moved out here in August."

"They care about you. It may be annoying, but I think it's great. I envy you."

He hasn't had anyone but Leon in so long. He doesn't remember what it's like to have a family that you love and hate, that smothers and adores you, that knows and shares your history. It's not something he dwells on much, but he's glad that Arthur gets to experience it.

"Merlin," he begins, sounding sad, but Merlin cuts him off, not wishing to hear it and also because he has about 15 minutes before his next class.

Standing up, he shoves papers and books into his bag and frowns an apology at Arthur. He often gets caught up with talking to Arthur. He'd only been late to one class so far, though.

Maybe two or three.

"Thanks for the coffee and have fun with your brother." 

"Thanks. I will." Arthur opens his mouth to say something else but seems to change his mind. With a shake of his head, he says, "See you later, Merlin."

They part in the hallway, heading in opposite directions, and Merlin tries not to think too hard about whatever it is that Arthur never says.

&&&

He can't help looking for signs of his Arthur in this new version or signs that he remembers. The sense of humor is similar, as is the drive to constantly do better and prove that he's worthy of the faith people show in him. The core appears to still be Arthur, but Jake Callahan is his own man, with his own history and goals, insecurities and talents.

Merlin is inexorably drawn to him, not just because he was once King Arthur but also because of the little details and quirks that make him Jake. How he can talk for hours about Dickens or his favorite dishes of his dad's that he misses the most. The way he melts when there's a dog around or the forthcoming way he talks about his "stupid and lost" years he spent drifting from one temporary job to another. The little boy grin he gets when he's teasing or happy. It all adds up to trouble for Merlin.

He struggles sometimes not to blurt out the truth or lead Arthur to it by bringing up things from their past, to spark the part inside him that must remember. He has to stop himself from using his magic to unlock the memories or show Arthur who he really is. What he means to Merlin. Leon had convinced him to let Arthur be and come to it in his own time, if at all, but it's difficult. Merlin's bursting with the joy of having Arthur back, and he wants to share it.

Mostly he's just grateful to have Arthur, whatever form he comes in.

&&&

"Is it all right if Leon comes with us? He's having a bad day so I promised him coffee and a big piece of chocolate cake, but then I remembered we were supposed to meet up."

"No, that's fine. I'd like to finally meet him."

"It's mutual, believe me." Arthur smiles, blushing faintly, and Merlin clears his throat so he won't say anything stupid or inappropriate.

Merlin texts Leon to let him know, and they walk to the cafe, complaining about the classes along the way. Arthur's settling into the teaching part of being a TA now, though Mia doesn't give him the opportunity very often. At least he finally figured out the copier.

Leon's already sitting at a table, looking fidgety and tearing a napkin into pieces. Leon's always been the calm, steady one in their relationship. It throws Merlin off when he gets into moods.

"Leon, hey," Merlin says, laying a hand on the back of Leon's neck and squeezing.

Leon glances up with a frown, then visibly starts when his gaze slides to Arthur. "Yeah, hello. Hi."

Arthur's brows pinch together, and Merlin jumps in quickly with introductions. Arthur holds out his hand to shake, and Leon takes it with a reverence that Arthur surely can't miss. Merlin tries not to roll his eyes.

"It's really good to meet you, Leon," Arthur says with a wide smile.

 "Um, yes. You too." 

"Hey, Jake, can you give us a minute?" Merlin asks. Leon blinks and shifts his gaze away from Arthur, shaking his head slowly. 

"Oh, sure. I'll just go to the counter then. Coffee and muffin for you, chocolate cake and what do you want to drink, Leon?" 

"Espresso, please. Thanks." Once Arthur's out of earshot, Leon turns to Merlin, expression completely dumfounded. "Bloody hell, Merlin." 

Raising an eyebrow, Merlin pulls out the chair next to Leon. "Believe me now, huh?" 

"I do. I just––wow."

Not that he needed it, bit it's nice to have Leon's confirmation to add to his own. A small part of him wondered if he were mistaken. It was an awfully long time, after all. A face could easily be forgotten, even one as beloved as Arthur's.

"He really has no idea who we are, does he?" Leon asks quietly, and Merlin shakes his head, the familiar sadness washing through him.

Before they can speak further, Arthur returns with their drinks and food. Leon immediately digs into his cake with an enthusiasm that borders on inappropriate. Merlin and Arthur exchange amused looks that go unnoticed by Leon.

"Feeling better?" Merlin asks when Leon stops for breath, half his cake gone.

"Yes, thanks. It was a tough day."

 Merlin presses his foot to Leon's until he gets a genuine smile in response. "Leon's a vet tech." Which seems an adequate explanation, since Arthur grimaces in sympathy.   
"I'm sorry," Arthur says.

"Thanks, but let's change the topic. Which book were you going to dissect before I crashed the party?" 

" _Game of Thrones_ ," Merlin answers, eyeing Arthur over his mug. He can never stop looking for long.

"Something contemporary?" Leon effects shock, mouth open and hands folded over his heart. "I thought you only read books by author's dead for centuries?"

"Shut up." Rolling his eyes, Merlin elbows him. "I read modern stuff as well."

True, he prefers teaching the classics or ancient texts, mostly because he was there when they were published and therefore has insight into them that no one else does. His tastes are more eclectic than that, however.

They discuss books for a while but inevitably go off on random tangents about a variety of other things. Leon and Arthur get along instantly, which Merlin suspected would happen and is happy to see in practice. He could almost believe this is their own, small version of the Round Table, if he squints and doesn't listen too closely to the precise ideas Leon and Arthur are bouncing between them.

It's the closest to home Merlin's been in a long time.

&&&

It took a decade for him to realize he was immortal, or at least for him to acknowledge something he already suspected. He spent several years testing it, trying to find the limits. He healed a bit faster, but he could still get sick or hurt.

He couldn't die. It was as if his body rejected the very idea. He should know. He attempted it often enough.

&&&

"And we're having one of our book discussions tomorrow so I'll be home late," Merlin says, handing the pot to Leon to dry and put away. Merlin does the dishes since Leon cooks, an arrangement he usually doesn't mind, but he has exams to grade and is consequently rushing through the task tonight, mind already on the stack of papers in his bag.

"You really like him, don't you?

"Hmm?" He looks up from the spoon he's scrubbing tomato sauce off to raise a questioning eyebrow at Leon.

"Jake," Leon answers, the use of that name very deliberate; they always call him Arthur when they're alone.

"I don't––"

"Merlin." Leon leans his elbows on the sink, his eyes serious. "You've spent the last 20 minutes talking about him. I hear little else from you lately."

Merlin blushes and ducks his head, attacking the spoon harder. "It's not that much, come on."

"Merlin, it's okay to admit you like him." 

"Of course I like him. He's a good guy." 

"You know that's not what I meant. You're clearly fond of him, and I think he feels the same about you." 

"So what if I do?" He clenches his fists under the water until his knuckles hurt. "It doesn't matter anyway." 

"Of course it does." 

"I could never––it doesn't feel right, Leon. I already feel awkward as it is, as just friends, knowing stuff about him that he has no clue about. It would be––I don't know, it would just feel wrong."

"You're denying yourself happiness for stupid reasons." Merlin starts to say something, but Leon cuts him off with an upraised palm, eyes gone flinty and mouth a thin line. "I realize it's scary to let yourself have this, after missing and wanting him for so long, but I think it's worth giving it a shot. You deserve to take this chance, Merlin. Just think about it, please."

Merlin manages a nod before Leon squeezes his shoulder, then tosses his towel onto the counter. After Leon leaves the room, Merlin drops his head and breathes slowly for a couple minutes. He finally relaxes his hands and rinses them, drying them on the discarded towel. Turning around, he rests back against the counter and closes his eyes.

This is certainly not the first time Leon's brought this up, though he's usually not so blunt. Merlin would be lying if he said he never thought about it, about dating Arthur––Jake––or kissing that perfect mouth or holding him. But he continues to hesitate and not get too close, for reasons he doesn't know or want to explore. It's getting harder, though. More and more, he finds that Leon might be right.

&&&

"Good morning, class!" Merlin says loudly as he walks into the room and is immediately greeted by a chorus of groans. He grins and hops up to sit on the desk, swinging his legs while the last few students trickle in. He's found that the best way to combat his own _oh god, I hate mornings, why is this class so fucking early, I just want to crawl back into bed_ feelings is to be as obnoxiously cheerful as possible. It makes his students grumble in a way that he thinks is too hilarious and stops him from wanting to cry and beg for coffee.

When everyone settles and looks at him expectantly, Merlin claps his hands and announces, "So today we're going to talk about the books you've read so far in this class that you've hated." People shift in their seats and exchange confused glances, and Merlin bites his lip so he won't laugh. He loves this part.

He eyes everybody, then notices that Arthur snuck into the room at some point. He's leaning against the wall in the back of the room with his arms crossed, his thin blue sweater doing amazing and distracting things for his biceps. Merlin wants to curl up next to him and see if that sweater is as soft as it looks.

Arthur catches his gaze and nods, smiling. Merlin forcibly returns his attention to the class before he does something horribly embarrassing.

"Oh, come on," he says, getting back to his lesson. "You mean no one loathed _A Scarlet Letter_? None of you wanted to throw _Catch-22_ out a window?"

"Um," comes a small voice from somewhere in the middle of the room and a tentative hand goes up slowly.

"Yes! Our first brave soul! What didn't you like?"

"I didn't like _Gone with the Wind_ ," she says, then shrinks back into her chair when the other students turn to stare at her.

"Excellent!" Merlin tells her, beaming and rubbing his hands together. "Now explain why and here's the catch: I don't want to hear things like _it was boring_ or _it's stupid_. You have to give me at least one legitimate reason why and then defend your position. All right, go on."

The poor student looks terrified for a full minute before she pushes herself straighter and says, "I don't think it's a realistic take on the Civil War."

"Interesting perspective. Why?"

She gives a couple examples and soon others in the class jump in to argue or agree. From there, they discuss other books that are problematic or too skewed toward a particular demographic or, yes, boring and stupid, but the point is that they all present clear and well-thought out arguments to back up their positions. After a while, they don't even need Merlin to prompt them, so he mostly sits back and smiles proudly, though he does need to step in once when it looks like a disagreement about _The Great Gatsby_ might come to blows.

At the end of class, he sends them off with a reminder about the paper due at the end of the week. They wave as they exit, still caught up in their discussions.

Merlin stands and grins at Arthur as he walks up to the front of the room.

"That was amazing," Arthur tells him. "I've heard that you're good with the students, but that was amazing."

"Oh. Um, thanks," Merlin says, ducking his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

"Do you mind if I steal the idea for my own class someday?" 

"Oh, no. Go ahead. I took it from another professor anyway."

Arthur's laugh sends chills down his spine, but he ignores it, slinging his bag over his shoulder instead and heading to the door for his next class. It's only one floor up, but he'll be late if he lingers here with Arthur. "So were you just spying on me or did you need something? The demon copier didn't escape again, did it?"

"Shut up. I have tamed that beast and you know it." He slows, then stops Merlin with a hand on his arm. The touch is brief, but it burns, heat radiating up Merlin's arm to the rest of his body. "There is something, though," he says, biting his lip, looking unbelievably and unusually shy all of a sudden.

"Yeah?"

Arthur glances up and down that hallway and steps closer. Merlin swallows and resists the urge to move even closer.

"I promised myself I'd do this today and not chicken out again so, uh." He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. "Will you go out with me sometime? On a date? We could do the cliché dinner and a movie thing or coffee or something else if you prefer."

"Yes. Okay," Merlin says when Arthur stops rambling. It's too quick and eager, but he can't really care when Arthur smiles wide, his eyes lighting up like Merlin just gave him Shakespeare’s rare First Folio. "I would love to," he adds unnecessarily.

"Oh. Great. Friday?"

Merlin nods, a part of him unaccountably relieved that Arthur took this first step. Merlin never would have.

He ends up having to rush to his next class and doesn't remember anything he says during the entire lecture.

&&&

"I have a confession to make," Arthur says, playing with his napkin and not meeting Merlin's eyes.

"Oh?" Merlin casually sips his coffee and pretends he's not hanging on Arthur's every word, though to be honest, he's always paying close attention to whatever he says.

They'd skipped the movie after dinner and instead came to a cafe to listen to a guitarist Arthur likes. Merlin hadn't cared; any time with Arthur is perfect. Dinner had only been awkward a couple times, much less than Merlin had expected for a first date, though he hadn't gone on one of those in a decade or two.

"Yeah, so," Arthur says and scratches the back of his neck. "I sabotaged the copier as an excuse to talk to you."

Merlin grins as Arthur's face turns bright red. "You did?" 

"Well, not the first time but after that, yeah." 

"So you screwed with the copier _three times_ just to talk to me?" 

Arthur's cheeks go even redder, but he nods. "You're gorgeous and funny and great and you have these cheekbones and eyelashes and––" He waves vaguely at Merlin, whose own face is heating up now. "And I'm an idiot. I may have panicked a little bit. It was the first thing I thought to do."

"That's––" 

"Pathetic?" Arthur finishes with a self-deprecating smile.

"Adorable. It's adorable." Merlin grins, and Arthur kicks him under the table.

"Shut up. Like you've never done anything stupid to catch someone's attention before." 

Merlin thinks about creating a flower for Freya, about everything he ever did for Arthur, about sneaking into Isobel's house and climbing her balcony like a clichéd Romeo and Juliet, about using Duncan as a model for a painting that took six weeks longer than it should've, about joining the medics during WWI to stay close to Henry and _keep him alive_. But he simply says, "There may have been a few times."

Arthur smiles at him. It's fond and soft around the edges and reminds him of days spent hunting and not catching anything, of calling Arthur names he never really meant, of facing countless threats and the relief of defeating them, of banter and teasing and always being there for each other.

Merlin turns back to the stage and finishes his coffee so he doesn't launch himself across the table at Arthur.

They leave an hour or so later, and here's where it gets awkward. Arthur walks him to his door, and Merlin wants to kiss him or invite him inside or wrap himself around Arthur and never let go.

"I had fun tonight," Arthur says, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

"So did I. We'll definitely have to do this again."

"Yeah. Yeah, absolutely." He steps closer and rests a warm hand on Merlin's stomach, then brushes a soft and all too brief kiss to Merlin's cheek. "Good night, Merlin."

"Night, Jake."

Merlin watches him walk back to his car. It's another handful of minutes before he can shake himself and go inside.

&&&

"So," Arthur says, wrapping his hand around Merlin's. "I can't help but notice you don't talk about yourself or family much." His tone is casual, but he's definitely fishing.

Merlin hesitates for a moment. He's so used to lying or evading that it's difficult to curb the impulse. He's not sure what he can tell Arthur anyway.

"There's not much to say."

"Oh, come on. You know the whole sorry tale of how I dropped out of college and spent six years being an idiot, and I don't even know where you were born."

"Wales."

"Yes, but where? What was it like? Did you have a good childhood? What were your parents like?"

"In a tiny town no one's ever heard of. It was just my mother and me. I never really knew my father. My mother didn't talk about him. I thought he was dead and didn't meet him until right before he did die, when I was about 20."

"Sounds lonely."

He shrugs. "Maybe sometimes. My mother was amazing, though, and I had this friend, Will. He used to get me into trouble all the time, just harmless kid stuff." He grins, remembering Will encouraging him to use his magic to get them out of chores faster or steal pies. "I usually got out of punishments by smiling innocently, since my mother was a softie and a sucker for my dimples. I left home when I was a teenager to...find my place in the world, I guess."

"Did you find it?"

 _I found it in you._ "Yeah, I did," he says softly. "I've moved around a lot, lived in a bunch of different places. Some I don't need to go back to. I'm strangely close to my best friend."

Arthur snorts, and Merlin bumps their shoulders together. "Definitely."

"Anyway. I'm happiest when I'm reading a book or talking about books, and I became a teacher based on a suggestion from said best friend. I'm a terrible cook, even after plenty of practice. I prefer cats but also love dogs. And I'm very glad Mia chose you as her TA."

When Merlin finishes, Arthur stares at him for a long minute, a slightly dazed look in his eyes.

"Well, that's certainly a lot of random information. " He smiles and tugs Merlin close enough to press a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you. I already knew that last part, though."

Wrapping his arms around Arthur, Merlin smiles against the chilled skin of his neck. "I thought you might've guessed, but I wanted to make sure."

Arthur kisses his cheek, hands bunched loosely in the back of Merlin's jacket. "I should've known you got away with murder with that smile. You must've been an adorable baby."

"I suppose so. There aren't any pictures of me."

"Be grateful. My mom likes nothing more than going through old family albums and giggling madly over the naked or embarrassing pictures of Paul, Emmett, and me."

Merlin laughs, then shivers as a gust of wind blows down his collar. "Can we go get that coffee now? Where it's warm?" he asks, burrowing close to Arthur. He makes a handy barrier to the cold wind that's kicking up even more.

"Yeah, of course." He turns them in the direction of the cafe, which had been their original destination until Arthur sidetracked them with his questions. He keeps Merlin close with an

arm around his shoulders. "You always did hate the cold, didn't you?"

Merlin looks at him sharply, but Arthur's oblivious, paying more attention to a woman with a cute dog up ahead. Closing his eyes briefly, Merlin lets out a long, quiet breath. These incongruous statements from Arthur seem to happen more frequently now, causing a dangerous hope to flare in Merlin's heart. They probably mean nothing, but he wonders.

&&&

Merlin puts his feet in Arthur's lap and settles back with his book. The TV is a soft murmur in the background, some reality show that Arthur seems riveted by. It's snowing outside, but Merlin's plenty warm enough. Arthur always did radiate heat like a fireplace. It's one of the reasons he slept near Arthur when they went hunting or were on a campaign.

Wriggling down further on the couch so more of his legs drape over Arthur, he hums happily and goes back to his book. He gets through half a chapter in peace before Arthur's show ends and he decides Merlin is infinitely more interesting than whatever comes on next. He starts stroking Merlin's bare foot, following a random path across the top up to his ankle and back down. It's strangely soothing, and Merlin leaves him to it, more than willing to indulge Arthur's need to constantly touch him.

"Your feet are always cold. No wonder you wore such thick socks."

Merlin closes his book slowly, heart thumping. He hasn't needed thick socks in decades, not since central heating became the norm around the world, and he's certainly not done it around Arthur.

This isn't the first time Arthur's said something that makes Merlin think his memories are bubbling to the surface, but it gets his hopes up each time.

"What?"

"Your feet are cold," Arthur says, then runs a finger over the arch of Merlin's foot and laughs when Merlin yelps.

"Hey! Stop it!" 

"Oh, are you ticklish, Merlin?" 

"No! Ugh, stop it!" Kicking at Arthur's thigh, he makes a high-pitched, embarrassing noise, attempting to pull his feet away from Arthur. But Arthur catches him in a strong grip, fingertips dancing along the bottom of Merlin's foot.

"This is awesome. Are you ticklish anywhere else?"

"No! Jake," he warns, going for serious but hitting somewhere around undignified instead when Arthur slides his hands up to the sensitive spot behind his knees.

He rolls, trying to get off the couch, but Arthur is bigger and more determined, so Merlin simply curls into the smallest ball possible and defends himself as best he can. Arthur eventually grips Merlin's wrist in one large hand and pins Merlin with his body, pressed chest-to-chest. Suddenly, Merlin doesn't feel like escaping anymore. He goes limp, and Arthur stills above him, eyes darting down to Merlin's mouth. Merlin licks his lips, then smirks when Arthur whimpers softly. After that, it's easy to lean up and capture Arthur's mouth.

He shifts until Arthur's legs slot between his and presses his knees against Arthur's hips. Arthur makes a delicious noise into his mouth and skims one palm down Merlin's face, tilting his head back in an angle that is much, much better. Licking into Arthur's mouth, he moves his hands down to Arthur's back, feeling the play of muscle there. He pushes Arthur's sweater out of the way and gets his hands on bare skin. It's smooth and warm, and Arthur must like that because he moans and deepens their kiss, coaxing Merlin's mouth open wider with strong thrusts of his tongue.

They're breathless and sweaty by the time Arthur pulls away and drops his forehead to the curve of Merlin's shoulder. Merlin's lips feel numb, and he has no doubt there's an utterly ridiculous smile on his face. He combs a hand through Arthur's soft hair and kisses his temple.

They're still curled around each other and kissing lazily when Leon arrives home an hour or so later. He waggles his eyebrows and grins at Merlin as he passes the couch on the way to the kitchen, and Merlin shrugs and smiles, content.

&&&

"Sometimes you––" Arthur says then stops, scrunching his nose and rubbing the back of his neck.

"What?" When Arthur doesn't elaborate, Merlin repeats it and kicks Arthur's shoe under the table.

"Sometimes," Arthur says eventually, voice quiet and a little uncertain in a way it's never been before, "you look at me like I'm––I'm someone special."

"Oh." _You are. More special than you will ever know._

"And I don't get it. I'm just a grad student from Pennsylvania that flunked out of school the first time because I was young and stupid and partied too much, and I'm horrible with anything more complicated than a toaster or telephone and I often say the wrong thing or make tons of mistakes. Yet you look at me with such faith, like I'm more than this, and I don't know why."

"Because you _are_ ," Merlin insists, then takes a deep breath in order to dial back the intensity when Arthur's eyes open wide. "You are more than all of that. You don't let any of it get you down or stop you. You went back to university when so many people said you'd never make it. And the students love you." Merlin could certainly relate.

"They just think I'm hot," Arthur says with a cheeky smile that Merlin wants to taste.

"Yep. That's exactly it." He grins back, and his breath goes shallow when Arthur's smile turns shy and a little fond.

&&&

It snows several inches overnight. Merlin means to crawl back into bed and read all day, but those plans are dashed when Arthur shows up as Merlin's finishing breakfast and somehow convinces him to go outside. Merlin pouts, thinking of his nice warm bed upstairs, but Arthur turns big, pleading eyes on him, and Merlin hates how he can never tell him no.

Before he can blink, Arthur bundles him into his thickest coat, jamming a woolen hat on his head and wrapping a long scarf three times around his neck. Arthur's similarly kitted out, and Merlin smiles fondly as he grabs his gloves and keys.

They walk slowly around the block. It's still early enough that no other footsteps disturb the pristine snow. It's quiet, the hushed kind of silence that only comes after a heavy snowfall, where the world seems to hold its breath and time almost stops.

They don't see anybody else, which is odd. Merlin expected lots of screaming kids having snowball fights. He's glad, though, to have this time alone with Arthur, even if he'd prefer to be inside where it's warm and dry.

When they get back to Merlin's, Arthur grabs his hand and pulls him toward the backyard, where Arthur immediately plops down and creates a messy snow angel. Tucking his face down into his scarf, Merlin watches him, amused, and grins through his chattering teeth. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets and shakes his head when Arthur tries to coax him down onto the ground, shivering in the wind that suddenly kicks up.

Through the generous use of pouting, light kisses to Merlin's cheeks and nose, and a "please, Merlin" or two, Arthur persuades him to build a snowman. Or, as it turns out, a whole host of snow things, including a snow dog and something Merlin meant as a cat that looks more like a misshapen, blobby bird. Arthur laughs at him for 10 minutes, then laughs harder as Merlin tackles him to the ground, determined to wrestle him into submission. Arthur easily flips them and pins Merlin underneath him. Merlin gazes up at him, breath catching at the way the sun is turning Arthur's hair into spun gold, at Arthur's flushed cheeks and wide, impish grin. He's so beautiful. Threading his fingers into the short hairs at the back of Arthur's head, Merlin draws him closer, brushes soft, slow kisses to each of Arthur's cheekbones and across his jaw.

"Merlin," Arthur sighs, then shifts them into a proper kiss.

Merlin forgets about the snow and the cold, cradled protectively in Arthur's arms. When his pants are soaked and he's to the point of numbness, Arthur pulls him to his feet and they shuffle inside. Merlin makes them hot cocoa, and they drink it curled together on the couch.

&&&

Merlin grabs his book, prepared to read in bed a while, but the doorbell interrupts him. Leon's already upstairs and probably asleep. Merlin's not expecting anyone but he can't ignore it, especially as a loud knock accompanies the doorbell this time. Heaving a sigh, he sets down his book and walks to the door.

Arthur's on the other side, looking bedraggled and wild-eyed. Merlin wonders if he's drunk but when he murmurs Merlin's name, he doesn't smell any alcohol on his breath.

"Jake, what are you––" 

Arthur pushes past him, then stands in the living room, shoulders hunched.

"Jake?" 

"You're incredibly messy and terribly uncoordinated." Arthur's voice is flat, emotionless, and makes the hairs on the back of Merlin's neck stand on end.

"Okay." He steps closer, but Arthur flinches almost imperceptibly so he backs up again. "Is everything all right?" 

Arthur ignores his question and continues talking in the same flat tone. "You don't follow orders and you argue too much. You're a terrible manservant and always scared away the game when we went hunting and you always disappeared when I needed you."

Merlin gasps, heart racing, and Arthur's eyes meet his. He visibly calms down, his posture relaxing, and when he speaks next, he does so with a small smile and hitch to his breathing.

"You have magic, extremely powerful magic, according to Gaius. You saved my life, probably many more times than I know about, and no one was ever as loyal to me as you."

"Arthur?" He can barely get it out through the tears closing off his throat, and even after all that, he's afraid to say it out load, afraid that acknowledging it will send Arthur away from him.

Arthur sucks in a harsh breath. "So it's true then? I'm really King––" He shuts his eyes and when he opens them, they're bright with unshed tears. "I'm really King Arthur and you're Merlin? From the legends?"

"Yes." He tries for a smile, but it feels fragile and crooked on his face. "The legends mostly got it wrong, though."

"I know. I remember. _How can I remember that?_ " A thread of hysteria enters his voice, and he sways on his feet, one hand covering his face and the other resting on his thigh, clenched into a fist.

"Here, let's sit," Merlin says gently, taking Arthur's arm and leading him to the couch. "I can explain. Sort of."

Arthur flashes him a look. It's full of the royal prat Merlin missed so much. It demands answers now, and Merlin's so happy to see it that he has to fight back a giddy smile.

"How long have you known?" He sits beside Arthur and rests a hand on Arthur's bowed back, between his shoulder blades. His muscles are taut with tension, strung so tight it must be painful. Merlin wishes he could make this better, with a kiss or the perfect words, but he suspects nothing will help right now.

"A couple days, I guess," Arthur says. "I've been having dreams and these bits of memories for a while now, maybe a month. And I've always felt like I've known you longer, but I thought it was because we clicked so easily right away. It never occurred to me that everything was real. I mean, who would guess this? But it is real, isn’t it?"

"Yeah. It is." 

"Fuck. I was afraid you'd say that." 

"What made you believe your dreams were more?" 

"I woke up from a particularly vivid and nightmarish dream, and my first thought was 'I must gather the knights and tell Merlin to prepare the horses.' And then I realized I was thinking of myself as Arthur and not Jake. Everything kind of slid into place. And then I freaked out and tried to forget it all. Drinking didn't help and neither did ignoring it. So I decided to come to you."

"Arthur, I'm sorry. That must be––" 

He pins Merlin with a hard, steady look. "How long have _you_ known?"

"I've been alive this whole time and I never forgot our lives together. But about you being Arthur? Since the first time I saw you." 

"And you didn't tell me?" 

"Would you have believed me?" Arthur's jaw clenches, and Merlin brushes his fingers over the ticking muscle there. "You would've thought I was crazy."

"That's better than being scared that I'm crazy! Do you have any idea what it's been like for me? What I've gone through?" 

"Trust me, it hasn't been easy for me either! I lost you. I couldn't save you, Arthur. I was devastated, and I've been waiting ever since for you to come back and when you do, you don't remember me." His voice breaks at the end, betraying his hurt. He bites his lips to hold back whatever wants to come out. This isn't about him; it can't be. He needs to focus on Arthur.

"Waiting?" At Merlin's nod, he orders, "Explain." 

"Kilgarrah said––" 

"Kilgarrah?" 

"The Great Dragon." He waves a hand in a later gesture, and Arthur settles back. He has so much to tell Arthur. "Kilgarrah told me that you're the once and future king, that you'd come back when Albion needs you most."

"Why? Why here and now?"

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out since I met you. It's destiny, and that's all I know."

"Fuck destiny. This is not okay." He stands abruptly and for a moment, Merlin fears he's going to strike out at something and hurt himself. He deflates just as quickly, however, and crumples to the floor. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm Arthur. It's all in here, but I'm also Jake. I remember growing up with my brothers and learning how to use a sword. I remember resenting Father for condemning me to untold days of putting up with the worst idiot of a servant and also falling in love with you."

Merlin slips off the couch and sits cross-legged in front of Arthur. He selfishly hopes that love overrides everything else.

"I'm so sorry. I know it's difficult. I'd help if I knew what to do." 

"You are." Arthur reaches for his hand and holds it in both of his, thumb tracing idly over the knuckles. "It was hard enough just getting the memories and now you tell me I have some ambiguous destiny. It's too much. I feel like I might explode if there's any more."

"We. Not just you, Arthur. It's my destiny too and whatever happens, I'll be by your side."

"Just like always." Arthur's smile is tremulous, but it's there.

"Absolutely. I could never be anywhere else." 

"I know." He kisses Merlin's palm, and Merlin can't hold back a quiet noise.

"Can I?" He's not even sure what he's asking, but Arthur nods anyway.

Merlin moves before he's aware of doing so, practically crawling into Arthur's lap and tightly wrapping his arms around him. Arthur grunts at the impact but immediately envelops Merlin in his embrace. The last time he held Arthur in his arms, Arthur was dead. He'd thought if he held on a little tighter, a little longer, Arthur would come back to him, would ease the unbearable ache in his heart. He didn't, of course, and so Merlin holds him closer now and tries not to let on how overwhelmed and grateful and in love he is. Burying his face in Arthur's neck, Merlin shuts his eyes and listens to Arthur's heartbeat, still slightly fast but soothing all the same.

&&&

When Merlin gets downstairs, Arthur's sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a steaming mug of coffee. Merlin pours himself a cup, adding too much sugar like usual, and drops into the chair next to Arthur, trailing his fingers across Arthur's shoulders as he passes. Arthur gives him a small smile but seems lost in thought, staring into his mug like it holds all the answers to the universe. Merlin wishes it did; he could use some right now.

When the silence gets to be too much, Merlin asks, "Did you get any sleep?"

The bleary eyes, dark circles, and pale skin would suggest no, but Arthur is closed off right now and Merlin knows from experience that a quiet Arthur is a self-doubting Arthur. Talking should draw him out.

"A little, yeah," Arthur says, grimacing.

They'd stayed up late talking, about a lot of things. Merlin had left Arthur curled on the couch but wide awake somewhere around 4 a.m. Merlin feel asleep quickly after getting to bed but obviously Arthur hadn't.

"Are you all right?" 

Arthur's snort and short bark of laughter are anything but amused.

"Would you be?" 

"Look, I know this is difficult and nothing I can say will make it better but––I don't know what to say," he admits finally, spreading his hands and smiling sheepishly. It earns him a quick grin, even if it's replaced by an expression far more melancholy.

Merlin had plenty of time to think about what he'd say or do once Arthur returned––when he wasn't in the midst of doubt and despair. He's always been so wrapped up in himself, in his own grief and loneliness and anger that he never considered how Arthur would feel. Of course, he'd thought that if Arthur came back, he'd come back with his memories firmly intact. This has got to be confusing and fucked up for him.

"My brain is all jumbled. I'm––I'm just trying to make sense of everything," Arthur says.

"I know." He reaches across the table to curl his hand around Arthur's, then pulls him closer to press a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth. "We'll figure it out together." 

"Yeah." He's silent for a minute, fiddling with the mug before he says, "There's one thing I'm wondering." 

"Only one thing?" 

One side of his mouth curves up briefly. "One of many, but most of them can't be resolved yet." Clearing his throat, he sets the mug to the side and momentarily flicks his eyes up to meet Merlin's. "Is the reason you were with me because you knew I was Arthur and were hoping I'd get my memory back someday? Is that the reason you even talked to me?"

"What? No! Of course not!" 

Arthur looks unconvinced. 

"Arthur." He stretches for Arthur's hand again, grateful when he doesn't pull away. "I'm not going to lie, I hoped you'd remember me, and at first it hurt to have you back but not completely. But then I got to know you as Jake and learned that you're pretty damn incredible. I love you, whether you're Jake or Arthur or a combination of the two."

Arthur's smile is sweet and bright. "Yeah?" 

"Yes. And you're an idiot to ever think otherwise." 

"Is that so?" Arthur says, and then Merlin suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Arthur. The chair's not really big enough for this, but Arthur makes it work, placing his knees on the seat on either side of Merlin and looping his arms around Merlin's neck for balance. Arthur bends his head, but Merlin gets there first, drawing Arthur's bottom lip into his mouth. It elicits a gasp and moan from Arthur, which goes a long way toward easing the tension crawling across Merlin's shoulders. He pulls back to stroke Arthur's cheek. Arthur nuzzles his palm with a soft smile that makes Merlin's breath hitch.

"We'll get through this, Arthur. I promise."

"I trust you," Arthur says, and it hits Merlin like a blow to the stomach. He's waited a millennia and several lifetimes for Arthur to tell him that, an Arthur that knows the truth about him and doesn't care, that loves him despite all the mistakes he's made.

To cover up all the emotions tangled up in his heart, Merlin kisses Arthur again, ignoring their awkward positions and the fact that his legs are starting to go numb from Arthur's weight.

He can face anything as long as Arthur's wrapped around him.

&&&

Merlin doesn't realize he's no longer alone until he feels Arthur's lips on the back of his neck. He startles a little, then turns around in his desk chair to find Arthur smiling at him.

"Hey," Merlin says, mood instantly brighter. "I didn't know you were here."

Arthur shrugs and runs a hand through Merlin's hair, stroking along one of his ears. Merlin sways closer.

"Leon let me in and we talked for a bit. I knew you were busy working."

Pulling a face, Merlin glances over his shoulder at the huge stack of papers he still has to grade before Monday. Not for the first time, he regrets insisting he didn't need a TA this year.

"I don't want to bug you but––" 

"I could use the break. What's up?" 

"I talked to my mom earlier." He stuffs his hands into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. 

"Oh." Merlin rolls his chair close enough that he can squeeze his leg against Arthur's. "How'd that go?" 

"Well, I didn't ask her if she knew I'm King Arthur reincarnated, so that's good, I guess." He sighs and leans back against the desk, hands gripping the edge. "It's confusing, having a family and yet remembering what it was like growing up with only my father. And Morgana, I suppose. It's like having multiple personalities."

He covers Arthur's hand with his own, mouth quirking when Arthur's grasp eases and he turns his hand palm up.

"I'm sorry I keep whining at you," Arthur says, tucking his chin into his chest.

"Hey, no. That's what I'm here for." 

"I just don't understand why this is happening." 

"Neither do I."

He tugs Arthur down and presses a lingering kiss to his mouth. Arthur's slow to react but eventually thumbs Merlin's jaw and tilts his head to deepen the kiss, sucking gently on Merlin's bottom lip.

Resting their foreheads together, Merlin kisses Arthur's cheek. Arthur makes a quiet noise, tension draining out of his muscles as he slides a palm up Merlin's spine and laid it on the back of his neck.

"I'm glad you are here, though," Merlin tells him. Arthur's alive and with him, memories intact. He won't question that too much for fear it won't last.

"Me too."

&&&

Merlin stands off to the side, back stiff and hands stuffed into his pockets, while Arthur flips through everything cluttering Merlin's desk.

"There's a lot here," Arthur says, picking up a newspaper article to skim.

"Yeah." 

He'd stopped actively researching for clues regarding Arthur's reappearance weeks ago, but he still adds things to the pile as he comes across them. His desk has always been more of a place to dump stuff than a surface to work on, and now it's covered with books and newspapers and scraps of paper, whatever he thought might be pertinent. It all seems stupid now, watching Arthur leaf through it, frown pinching his brows together.

"I don't get it. There's nothing extraordinary here, nothing that hasn't been going on for centuries. There are always wars and famine, lack of resources and atrocities. Why was I brought back now?"

"I don't know."

He doesn't tell Arthur about Leon's theory; that it's Merlin's need that brought Arthur back and not Albion's. He wishes it were so, that he wouldn't have to share Arthur with the world or defeat an unknown foe, but he can feel it, an unreachable itch under his skin that grows worse every day. Something's coming, and he hates being unprepared for it.

"Do you have Excalibur?" Arthur asks, unconsciously curling his hand around a phantom pommel.

"No. It's still in the lake at Avalon. The spirits there won't give it up till it's needed and only to you. Last time I went there...it didn't go well."

In his grief, he'd used magic against the spirits of the lake, demanding they return Arthur to him. But the guardians have their own kind of magic, and they'd fought back, unwilling to surrender their charge. Merlin hadn't taken the defeat well and only returned to the island a handful of times after that. It holds too many painful memories.

"Something huge is happening, Arthur, and I can't figure out what it is."

Arthur reaches for him and pulls him close, kissing Merlin's cheek softly. "We'll work it out together."

Sighing, Merlin nods and tightens his arms around Arthur. "Together," he murmurs.

&&&

"I want you to fuck me," Arthur growls, mouth right against Merlin's ear.

Merlin shivers, hips stuttering forward automatically, and it takes three rapid heartbeats before he can moan, "Fuck. Yes."

Arthur kisses him, quick and dirty, then slides his hands into the back of Merlin's sleep pants to cup his ass. He bites at Merlin's jaw while Merlin whimpers and starts rucking up Arthur's shirt, needing to get at bare skin. He smooths his hands up Arthur's chest and down his sides, feeling the soft crinkle of hair and the bumps of his ribs, the stretch of his muscles in time with his heavy breathing.

Someday, Merlin will spend hours exploring and learning Arthur's body, but tonight Arthur doesn't give him a chance. Arthur peels them out of their clothes and cradles Merlin's hips between his thighs and oh, Jesus. The slick slide of Arthur's cock along his makes Merlin gasp and shudder, every nerve ending on fire. He opens his mouth against Arthur's throat, licking at the spot where Arthur's pulse beats fast and erratic.

"Merlin," Arthur murmurs, running his nose along Merlin's cheekbone and rocking his hips up, prodding him to get on with things a bit quicker.

"Yeah," Merlin says but doesn't move. "Get yourself ready."

Arthur chokes on a moan, and Merlin smirks, then fumbles in the bedside table for the lube, pressing it into Arthur's lax hand.

Sitting back on his heels, Merlin watches as Arthur swallows thickly and flips open the cap on the lube. He coats his fingers and spreads his legs and somewhere around the second finger, Merlin's able to unfreeze and tear his eyes away from the erotic sight. He scoots closer and kisses Arthur's upraised knee before cupping his thighs and spreading him open even further.

"You're so fucking hot like this, Arthur." Merlin sucks a finger into his mouth, getting it good and wet, then works it in alongside both of Arthur's.

"Jesus, Merlin," Arthur swears, his breath hitching.

"You good?" he asks and Arthur nods.

Leaning to the side, Merlin reaches for a condom, but Arthur gently grabs his wrist with a quiet "wait." Merlin arches an eyebrow and smiles when Arthur flushes.

"Don't. I'm clean and if you are––" He swallows and rubs his thumb against the inside of Merlin's wrist. "I want to feel you."

"Arthur."

And what can he do except kiss Arthur, slow and deep.

In the end, it's nothing like he ever imagined. They take a while to find a rhythm that works for them, and there's more laughter than he's used to. But it's good. It's perfect and more than he ever let himself hope for. Arthur's surrounding him, hips bracketing Merlin's, hand in Merlin's hair and mouth on his, and Merlin never wants to be anywhere else.

Arthur comes first, hand tightening on the fist Merlin has wrapped around his dick. Merlin soon follows. They stay like that for a few minutes, until Merlin stumbles to the bathroom for a cloth to clean them up. When he's done, Arthur immediately tugs him up and arranges them so Merlin's head is on his chest. Merlin kisses him there, right over his heart, and closes his eyes.

Arthur runs a hand through Merlin's messy hair, combing out the tangles, then thumbs at Merlin's jaw. Merlin leans into the touch, making a faint happy noise and reveling in being this close to Arthur. The only one he's ever truly wanted. The man he's lived for, breathed for, since that first awkward meeting.

"Why did we never do this before?" Arthur asks, still sounding slightly breathless and hoarse, and somehow Merlin knows he means in their first life.

"Because you had Gwen, and I realized too late how much I love you," he says, reaching up to thread his fingers through Arthur's.

"Mmm. We'll just have to make up for lost time." 

"That's so cheesy, even for you." Merlin laughs and then to his horror and embarrassment, 1000-plus years of grief and loneliness crashes over him and he starts crying. Not just a few gentle tears but all-out sobbing with snot running down his face and body shaking so hard he fears he'll never stop.

He's had to be strong for Arthur, helping him deal with the mindfuck of all those new memories, that he hasn't taken the time to let any of it really sink in yet. That Arthur is alive and here and remembers him. That Arthur still accepts him, all of him.

"Oh, Merlin," he murmurs, drawing Merlin up and into a tight embrace. Resting a hand at the nape of Merlin's neck, he sweeps the other up and down his back, slow and soothing. "It's all right. I'm here."

Merlin burrows against Arthur's chest and lets it all go like he hasn't done in a very long time. Arthur's voice washes over him, though he doesn't hear much besides _Merlin_ and _I'm here now_ and _love_ over and over.

An indeterminate time later, Merlin's tears finally slow down, and Merlin rolls away from Arthur and attempts to wipe off his messy face with a corner of the sheet.  
"This isn't how I wanted this night to go," he says, trying out a smile that feels brittle and rusty.

"We'll have other nights." He brushes back Merlin's hair. "I'm sorry."

Merlin's brows knit together. "What for?" 

"For not remembering sooner. For leaving you alone for so long."

Biting his lip to keep from crying again, Merlin shakes his head. "I had Leon." The _but it wasn't the same_ goes unspoken, though Arthur clearly hears it anyway.

"I'm glad." He cups Merlin's cheek and strokes along his jaw. "I do too, you know. Love you. I always have."

He smiles, feeling his heart ease, and kisses Arthur's palm. "I know."

&&&

When Merlin stumbles downstairs in search of caffeine and food, Arthur and Leon are already sitting at the table with what looks like the remains of a full English on their plates. He must appear especially pathetic, because Leon immediately stands and moves over to the fridge, pulling out eggs and bread and more food than Merlin will ever eat on his own.

He grabs himself some coffee and slides into the chair next to Arthur, who gives him a soft smile and squeezes his thigh. He can't help leaning close to him, breathing contentedly when Arthur brushes a light kiss to his temple.

Arthur and Leon carry on their conversation while Leon cooks, and Merlin's halfway through his coffee before he clues into the fact that they're rehashing old campaigns and battles. As is natural, mistakes and blunders that almost got you killed then become funny anecdotes to recount, especially with over 1000 years between now and then to smooth out the desperate edges of kill or be killed.

Merlin was there for a lot of it and remembers being terrified most of the time, worried about Arthur and his friends. His mistakes had cost lives. Cost Arthur his life.  
Arthur kisses Merlin's frown just as Leon sets a food-laden plate and glass of orange juice in front of him. The food definitely perks up his mood quite a bit, as does the conversation shifting from fighting to tavern stories.

"Remember the time Gwaine got exceptionally drunk and started reciting exceptionally bad poetry to who he thought was the innkeeper's daughter but was actually a mop in a bucket leaning against a post?"

Arthur dissolves into adorable sputtering giggles, head thrown back to expose the long line of his throat. Merlin wants to suck on it but shovels more eggs into his mouth instead, because it wouldn't stop at just licking Arthur's neck and he doesn't think Leon would appreciate the show.

He swallows and grins. "I'm sorry I missed that." Gwaine was always good for a pitcher or two of ale and some laughs. Not for the first time, Merlin forces down the sting of Gwaine's death.

"I'm not sure how you did, considering you were always in the tavern when I needed you," Arthur says, rolling his eyes. 

"Oi! You know that was Gaius code for _he's off doing something magical_. I was too busy saving your ass to go to the tavern!" 

"Shame. You're a terrible lightweight. It would've been fun to drink with you more often." 

Merlin narrows his eyes at him and finishes his breakfast with a happy sigh.

An unsurprising number of their stories involve Gwaine hurting himself or doing something stupid, and soon they're all laughing too much to talk properly.

"Oh, oh, hey!" Merlin says and sits up straighter. "Do you remember after that one feast when we caught Leon in the corridor kissing Annis?" 

Leon's face goes a bright shade of pink under his scruff, and Arthur makes a gleeful noise that's awfully close to a squeal. 

"That was brilliant!" Arthur exclaims, aiming a wide grin full of teeth at Leon.

"You swore never to speak of that again," Leon complains and crosses his arms, which only causes them to laugh harder. "You guys are assholes." 

When talk switches to all the times Merlin tripped or fell on his face––these stories are seemingly endless––he doesn't even care. These are memories he doesn't mind sharing. The other ones, the painful ones, he keeps locked up tight.

&&&

A commercial comes on, and Leon starts flipping through the channels again until he settles on the History Channel. Something about Nazis or Egyptians meeting aliens probably. Merlin doesn't pay close enough attention to find out. He sighs. Loudly.

He hates the History Channel. Most of it is inaccurate or skewed at the best or flat-out wrong at the worst. There are drawbacks to having lived through what everybody else views as interesting stories or only vaguely recalls as something maybe important happening centuries ago. "History" is always wrong. Things get mistranslated, deliberately manipulated, or twisted in the retelling. Look at their story for Christ's sakes. No one believes they actually existed, there are hundreds of versions but none of the details are correct, and none mention Leon, a fact Merlin feels is particularly tragic. Leon's more of a hero than he ever was. He saved the day more by accident than decisive action, especially before he learned more about magic, and he made quite a few horrendous, life-altering mistakes. Which nobody knows, thanks to the so-called legend of King Arthur.

"Stop ranting," Leon says abruptly, pointing the remote at Merlin.

"Me? I didn't say a word," Merlin protests.

"I can tell when you're gearing up for your 'history books are wrong' rant but be quiet. I'm watching this. If you don't like it, go cuddle Arthur somewhere else."

Did he say Leon was a hero? He was wrong.

"Whatever." 

He huffs and crosses his arms. When Arthur laughs at him from the opposite end of the couch, Merlin kicks his thigh, since his feet are conveniently resting in Arthur's lap. Arthur simply gives him a look, glancing up briefly from the book he's been entranced with for the past couple hours, then taps his fingertips along the arch of Merlin's foot. Unable to hold in a giggle, Merlin folds his knees up out of Arthur's reach and goes back to glaring at the TV.

He was right. The show's about the Nazis getting technology from aliens. He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts.

"God, you are adorable when you pout," Arthur tells him. "I've always thought so."

Merlin crinkles his nose but ignores him after that. Well, until Arthur crawls across the couch and crowds into his space, bumping his forehead against Merlin's temple.

"I'm not pouting," he tries to say, but it gets muffled by Arthur's mouth, and he no longer cares if Leon's watching cartoons or FoxNews.

He digs his fingers into Arthur's hips and yanks him closer, grunting softly as Arthur half lands in his lap and nearly knees him in the crotch. The pain fades with Arthur's insistent kisses, and Merlin loses himself in it for several minutes, until Leon grumbles about them getting a room. Although, when Merlin looks at him over Arthur's shoulder, he's failing to hide a smile behind the remote, so Merlin's pretty sure his disgruntlement is faked.

Still, this is infinitely more fun without an audience. He drags Arthur off the couch and winks at Leon as they hurry out of the room. Leon rolls his eyes, lips twitching, then goes back to his Nazi aliens.

Grinning, Merlin wraps his hand around Arthur's and leads him up the stairs.

&&&

"I missed you," Merlin whispers.

From Arthur's small intake of breath, Merlin knows he hadn't been asleep, though the closed eyes and silence had suggested it. Arthur's hand brushes against Merlin's hip.

"I had a life. Leon made sure of that. I met some incredible people, had friends, fell in love a couple times. But it wasn't the same. Without you––" He stops, throat closing.

"Merlin." His voice is so quiet that Merlin almost misses it, but he doesn't miss the way Arthur's staring at him now––concerned and fond and guilty.

"It always felt like something was off, like something was just out of reach."

Arthur shifts so they're sharing the same pillow and kisses Merlin's forehead, lips lingering. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known you were waiting for me, I would've come back sooner."

"You didn't even know you were supposed to come back."

"Doesn't matter. I would've found a way." He cups Merlin's face in both hands, and Merlin presses a gentle kiss to his palm. "If I'd known I would find this, I would've come back a hell of a lot sooner."

Merlin doesn't say _I love you_ because Arthur already knows. "I'm glad I don't have to miss you anymore."

"God, Merlin. Me too."

&&&

Merlin wakes to Arthur kissing the back of his neck. He smiles into the dark of the room, letting out s soft, sleepy noise. It's not yet morning, and his body still feels lax and heavy. Arthur's curled around him from behind, one hand sneaking under Merlin's t-shirt to splay across his stomach. Arthur breathes Merlin's name into the skin behind his ear, the hot puff of his breath causing Merlin to shiver. He sinks back against the solidness of Arthur's chest. No matter how long it's been, sometimes he still needs the reassurance that Arthur's alive and here with him.

Trailing his hand down Merlin's spine, Arthur slips inside his boxers and cups his ass.

"Yes," Merlin says, not sure what he's agreeing to and not exactly caring.

Arthur pushes one finger inside Merlin and moans. "You're still loose from earlier."

His voice is low, sleep-rough, and he sounds wrecked already. Merlin arches back and hisses as Arthur adds another finger, fucking in deep.

Arthur had learned quickly how to take Merlin apart with just his hands, but Merlin wants more than that right now, despite already having two powerful orgasms several hours ago.

"Arthur. Fuck. Please." He can't help his desperate tone or rocking his hips back to get Arthur even deeper.

"All right," Arthur says, kissing a random spot between Merlin's shoulder blades.

He shoves their clothes out of the way, then frames Merlin's hips and lines himself up. He fucks inside easily, and Merlin closes his eyes and presses his face into the pillow, biting back a whimper.

It's slow, languid, Arthur laying soft kisses to his shoulders and back, and it feels like hours later that Arthur wraps a sloppy hand around Merlin's dick and strokes him off. Arthur thrusts several more times before stiffening and shaking through his own orgasm.

They lie there for a few minutes, too content and boneless to move. Merlin shifts first, rolling over toward Arthur and holding Arthur's face in his hands.

It's not much of a kiss since they're both still breathing hard, but it's sweet, and Merlin curls into the comforting strength and heat of Arthur's body.

&&&

"All right, since we're nearly done for the day, come up and get your papers." At the chorus of groans, he's quick to assure his students. "You all did brilliantly so don't worry. You must have an excellent teacher."

The groans this time are along the lines of _oh my god, you're a dork, Dr. Adams_.

Merlin grins as the first students shuffle up to the front to collect their papers. They're good kids. They seem impossibly young sometimes, but this is a particularly good group––smart, polite, more insightful than most 20 year olds. He hopes some of them will pursue a career in academia; a couple have the aptitude and drive for it, he thinks. An A from him is generally hard to come by, and he likes watching the students' faces when they flip their papers over and see that elusive grade. It means he's made an impact on them, got them thinking critically and taking the class seriously. There's nothing worse than wasted potential.

He sends the last student off with a smile, then places everything into his bag. When he walks out of the room, he finds Arthur waiting for him in the hallway. He grins crookedly. His day just got instantly better, and it was pretty good already.

"Hey," Arthur says. "I come bearing gifts."

Merlin snatches the coffee and grins wider before kissing Arthur's cheek. "You're the best."

"I know."

He holds the cup in his hands for a moment while Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. "Are you going to walk me to my next class and carry my books for me too?" His attempt at batting his eyelashes only results in Arthur snorting a laugh, sputtering into his own coffee.

"This is your last class of the day, and you are perfectly capable of carrying your own stuff."

Merlin pouts. "Fine. But you can walk me to my office instead. I need to stop there before we go to dinner."

The campus is busy today, with students studying outside or talking in groups, thanks to the first sunny day after nearly a week of rain. Merlin can't blame them. He'd gotten restless being stuck inside a classroom all day.

When they reach his office, Arthur pushes him back against the closed door and kisses him. There's nothing chaste about it, and Merlin arches into the wet heat of Arthur's mouth, Arthur's tongue curling around his.

"Jesus," Merlin pants, leaning his head on the door and willing his shaky legs to hold him up. The strap of his bag is caught on his elbow, throwing him off balance, and he'd slide to the floor if not for the firm grip he has on Arthur's hips. "What brought that on?"

He licks his lips and Arthur's eyes zero in on the movement, pupils dilating even more so the blue is barely visible. It's another second or so before he speaks, though he continues to stare at Merlin's mouth.

"Just," he starts, shaking his head a bit. "Missed you," he smiles, not a little shyly, and Merlin melts.

"You just saw me this morning." Arthur shrugs, and Merlin grins fondly at him. "Dork."

Arthur huffs good-naturedly. "Whatever. You love it." 

"I do." It's easy to admit, especially since it earns him that brilliant smile and another thorough, hungry kiss. Merlin's half hard and completely out of breath by the time Arthur pulls away and presses his face to the side of Merlin's neck.

"This wasn't part of my plan," Arthur mumbles against him. The warm ghost of his breath tickles, but Merlin doesn't move.

"Yeah?" He combs a hand through Arthur's mussed hair and brushes his lips to Arthur's temple. "What was the plan?"

Arthur shifts a bit but stays close, tucking himself against Merlin. "I made food. We were going to have a romantic picnic outside. You were supposed to swoon at how I thought of everything."

Merlin grins, chest going tight. "That's a good plan. Why are we not doing that?"

"Because now I just want to go home and get you naked," Arthur says, low and suggestive right against the shell of his ear, and Merlin shudders, moaning.

"I like that plan much, much better." Arthur chuckles. Merlin shoves Arthur away from him so he can gather the things he needs to take home. 

They end up having their picnic in bed, wearing nothing but boxers, with the sheets rumpled around them. There's a purpling mark on Arthur's chest and one on his neck and a matching one on the inside of Merlin's thigh. They haven't bothered to turn on lights yet, and the dying sunset casts shadows in the room. It smells heavily of sweat and sex and Merlin's pretty sure there's still dried come in his hair, but it's the best picnic he can recall ever having.

&&&

Merlin shifts so he's curled around Arthur, head on his chest. Arthur runs a hand through Merlin's hair and across his jaw before going back to his book. Smiling, Merlin closes his eyes and snuggles even closer, idly playing with the button on Arthur's jeans. This is definitely his favorite way to spend the evening.

He's just contemplating dozing off when Leon bursts in the door, looking wild-eyed and frantic.

"You need to turn the TV on," he tells them. His voice is shaking and when he reaches for the remote on the coffee table, Merlin sees that his hands are also unsteady.

Merlin shares a worried look with Arthur and sits up while Arthur sets down his book.

"What's going on?" Merlin asks. Leon glances at him, and his expression scares Merlin. Leon's always calm and stable, Merlin's unmovable anchor. This isn't the Leon he's used to.  
Arthur picks up on Merlin's growing panic and presses his knee into Merlin's.

"I think this is it. What we've been waiting for," Leon answers and switches on the TV, quickly flipping to a news station.

Merlin swallows hard and fumbles for Arthur's hand. All the research and prep he's done since first knowing Arthur was back dies in a moment of panic.

"It's all right," Arthur murmurs, kissing his temple and squeezing Merlin's hand. "We've fought dragons and armies of the dead and all manner of things hell-bent on killing us.

Whatever this is, it doesn't stand a chance against us. I promise."

Leon drops beside Merlin on the couch and being flanked by these two people––Leon with his loyalty and bravery, Arthur with his courage and strength––settles Merlin's nerves and ignites his confidence.

Whatever they're about to face, he knows they'll defeat it, the three of them together.

_Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again._

 


	2. We Will Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has finally been reunited with Arthur, so of course that's when the world erupts in fire and chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this for around a year, mostly because I'm lazy and couldn't come up with a title. Since I'm getting close to 10k hits on An Emptiness in Me, I thought I'd get off my arse and finally post. I'm blown away by the response this fic has gotten. I never expected that at all. Thank you, everyone, for reading. I hope you like this tiny sequel. <333

Merlin stared down at the large digital map of the world. The red dots representing their enemy dominated the screen, completely engulfing everything except the few pockets of green dots of their own troops. Even as he watched, more red dots swallowed a group of green ones situated in Brazil.

He ignored the bustle of activity around him and for the most part, everybody let him be. He touched the screen and zoomed in on the area over Wales. It was their combat center, unlikely as it was, the place with the biggest amount of green dots, where the resistance held the firmest. Zooming in more to the area outside Cardiff, he quickly counted the number of green dots versus red. They were still holding ground, at least for now.

His fascination with Wales had nothing to do with Arthur being there.

He heard footsteps behind him and for a split second, he thought it would be Arthur.

“Drink this,” Leon said, thrusting a bottle of water at Merlin’s nose.

“Not thirsty,” Merlin replied, bringing up another screen with reports from the latest U.N. briefing.

“Merlin.”

When Merlin still refused, Leon wrapped Merlin’s hand around the bottle and glared at him until he drank half the bottle. Merlin glared back and didn’t admit that the water felt good going down his parched throat.

“You won’t do any of us any good if you don’t take care of yourself,” Leon said, and Merlin rolled his eyes. He’d heard that so many times from Leon over the centuries.

“I’m fine,” Merlin insisted, sure that Leon would sit him down and force him to eat in the next few hours. Leon’s overprotectiveness both annoyed and warmed Merlin.

Leon huffed and stared him down until he grinned and finished the water.

Merlin went back to the map, stretching it out to the full map before zeroing in on Wales again.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Leon said quietly, pressing his shoulder against Merlin’s.

“I know. I would feel it if he––” He cut off and closed his eyes, not wanting to even think about it. He hated being so far away.

Leon curled an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, easily bearing his weight when Merlin sagged against him. “The world needs you both. Nothing will happen to him.”

Merlin nodded. He hoped Leon was right.

“Sir? General Mitchell wants you in his office.”

Glancing back, Leon smiled. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

He pulled away and straightened his uniform. With all their practice at reinventing themselves over the years, it’d been easy to transform mild-mannered vet tech Leon into a soldier and make Merlin an indispensable technology consultant. There was no question about Arthur stepping into the middle of the fighting. Merlin just wished it hadn’t taken him a world away.

“Promise me you’ll eat something?” Leon demanded, and Merlin didn’t bother to hide his eye roll.

“I will.”

He looked back at the map. Nothing had changed.

@@@

An incessant ringing from his laptop woke Merlin from a fitful sleep. He’d gone to bed a few short hours ago, and it took him several seconds to process what he was hearing. He rolled over in bed to find his laptop half-shoved under a pillow and still open, Arthur’s name up on the FaceTime screen. Merlin clicked on the answer button so fast he nearly sprained his finger.

And then Arthur’s face filled his screen. The lighting was dim and behind him, making him barely visible. His hair was a mess and he had dark circles under his eyes and a three-inch cut on his cheek. He was beautiful. Without thinking, Merlin reached out to stroke his screen, blushing faintly when Arthur smirked at him.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Merlin.”

It’d been three weeks since he heard Arthur’s voice. He bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry.

“How’s Command?” Arthur asked.

“Busy. There?”

“Chaotic. Loud.”

Merlin nodded. He had the volume all the way up to hear Arthur over all the background noise. It looked like Arthur was in a tent. Merlin could see shadows passing by outside. He wondered how Arthur had managed to find time to call. They’d dealt with sporadic communication since Arthur left, only getting short conversations every few weeks. Merlin hated it.

“Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Merlin's eyes traced over Arthur’s cut, inspecting him for other injuries. He should be there, dammit. How can he protect Arthur if there was an ocean between them?

“What, this?” Pointing at his face, he shrugged and shook his head, dismissing Merlin’s concern. He never did like admitting to any wounds, no matter how severe. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, Merlin.”

“Are you sure?”

“I miss you,” he blurted.

Merlin’s heart ached liked a giant fist squeezed it. “I miss you too.”

@@@

Merlin looked up as Leon barged into the mess hall and hurried over to him. He wore his serious face, and the mashed potatoes Merlin just ate threatened to come back up. Dread settled like lead in Merlin’s stomach.

“I need you to come with me,” Leon said, cupping a gentle hand around Merlin’s elbow and drawing him out of the chair.

“What’s going on?” Merlin asked as Leon propelled him through the room.

“Once we’re alone.”

“No.” Merlin dug in his heels and refused to move. “Tell me now.”

“Merlin, please. Just come.”

This must be bad news. After a moment, Merlin gave in and let Leon drag him out of the mess hall and across to another building. They found an empty room. Merlin followed Leon in, then crossed his arms and waited.

“There was an ambush,” Leon began. “About 100 miles outside Cardiff.”

Merlin sucked in a breath, fumbling until he found an armchair to sink into. “Arthur?”

Shaking his head, Leon tugged a chair close to Merlin’s so their knees touched. “We haven’t heard anything specific yet. There were many casualties. Reports are still coming in so we don’t know what went wrong.”

“I would know. If he died, I’d know, Leon.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” he said, though he didn’t appear sure. A muscle jumped in his jaw from clenching his teeth too much. “I wanted to tell you before you heard it from anyone else.”

“Thanks.”

“He’s all right. He’s survived every battle up to now.”

“Right.” _It only takes one unlucky moment, one mistake, and I’m not there to make sure nothing happens._

“I’ll go check if there’s any news. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah. Um, it’s just hard standing back and letting him jump into the fray without going in there with him.”

“You never were very good at letting Arthur put himself in danger.”

Merlin smiled, but it felt fragile on his face. “He always got into trouble when I wasn’t there to watch out for him.”

“As I recall, he got into plenty of trouble when you were there too.” Leon grinned, then squeezed Merlin’s knee. “I’ll go check the status.”

Merlin spent the next several, tense minutes staring out the window with his hands clutching his elbows, not seeing the bright sunshine outside. He wondered what the weather was like in Wales right now.

When Leon returned, he smiled, and Merlin could finally let go of the fear.

“He’s all right,” Leon told him, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “His team had to lay low for a while, but he’s okay, maybe a bit banged up but nothing major. He saved the whole team, according to the eyewitnesses.”

“Of course he did,” Merlin muttered, and Leon grinned.

“Do you want a drink? I have some beer hidden under my bed.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Still feeling a little shaky, he let Leon lead him over to the barracks.

@@@

Merlin tapped his foot and fidgeted for the entire plane trip, too nervous to read any of the books he brought or talk to any of the other people surrounding him. It felt wrong going away from Leon for an indeterminate time, but Merlin was needed elsewhere. They’d been separated before.

They landed at night, on a secret runway dug through the middle of a forest. Merlin disembarked, stretching his arms over his head, while a dozen soldiers swarmed around the plane and started unloading the cargo––medical supplies and the new weapon prototype Merlin helped develop, the reason for his presence here. He looked around, searching for––

And there he was, standing next to another soldier, clipboard in hand, checking off items as people hauled boxes onto trucks. His hair shone golden in the headlights. He looked tired but whole, uninjured, and Merlin couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Arthur!”

Arthur’s head snapped up, his expression quickly changing from shock and confusion to delight. He thrust his clipboard at the bewildered soldier and charged across the tarmac, meeting Merlin halfway. Merlin threw himself in Arthur’s arms, propriety be damned, and shuddered when Arthur’s mouth touched his.

@@@

Neither of them had privately assigned accommodations, but they made do, finding a space where they could be alone for a few hours. Merlin spent the first hour curled around Arthur, sobbing onto his shoulder, and he’d be embarrassed if Arthur wasn’t crying too.

Eventually, Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s forehead and cheek and his mouth. Merlin melted into it, reveling in finally being able to touch Arthur again. After waiting over 1000 years for him before, several months should be easy to endure, but it felt worse, knowing Arthur was out there fighting somewhere, without Merlin to watch his back. They’d agreed to go wherever their skills were needed, but it hadn’t taken long for Merlin to realize what a stupid fucking decision that was. The only thing that had kept him from boarding the first transport to Wales was Leon, talking him out of it in his usual calm, sensible way.

“Oh, god. I missed you,” Merlin said, burying his face in Arthur’s neck. He smelled like sweat and fuel, with the lingering scent of firearms. Merlin tightened his hold on Arthur, as if his presence alone would keep him safe.

“I know. Me too.” Arthur combed his fingers into Merlin’s hair, gripping just a shade too hard, and whispered into Merlin’s ear, “I’m glad you with me, love.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut against more tears and kissed Arthur’s jaw, laying a line of light kisses to his mouth, getting lost in it for a long time. When he pulled back, Arthur stared up at him with clear eyes.

“You just––” He fiddled with Arthur’s shirt collar. “Promise me something?”

“Of course.”

“Be careful. Stop playing the hero.”

“Oh come on, Merlin. You know that’ll never happen.”

Merlin huffed, remembering all the times Arthur put the safety of his men before his own life. “Promise me anyway?”

Smiling softly, Arthur kissed him. “I promise.”

“I love you,” Merlin murmured, and Arthur smiled gently. They didn’t say it very often now, since they knew how the other felt, but sometimes it bubbled out of Merlin and he couldn’t keep the words locked inside.

“I love you too.”

@@@

Three days later, their troops in Northern Ireland scored their greatest victory yet, soundly turning back the enemy and destroying thousands of them.

A week after that, they took back control of Greece.

After three weeks, large swathes of green dots controlled Merlin’s digital map. Central America. Canada. England. Russia. One by one, their troops gained a foothold.

Standing in the control tent at the headquarters in Wales, Arthur turned to Merlin and said, “We’re going to do it. We’re going to win.”

For the first time, Merlin believed him.

Arthur claimed it was because the two of them were together, finally, but Merlin knew their troops deserved a lot of the credit. The changing tide may be due to an idea from Arthur, perfected by Merlin and Leon and generals from several countries, but the soldiers carried it out.

They _were_ winning, though, after countless sleepless nights and worrying about Arthur and Leon, after the fear of failure and hopelessness took up residence in his heart.

The relief Merlin felt went bone-deep.

@@@

Five months later, Merlin stood between Arthur and Leon at the peace celebration and award ceremony. Leon had arrived the night before, grinning and immediately scooping Merlin into one of his full-body hugs, Arthur looking on nearby with fond amusement. The three of them stayed up late talking and having their own private celebration.

All around them Merlin saw evidence of their hard-won peace––broken trees, demolished homes, mile-wide craters in the ground, but the atmosphere was joyful, helped along by the champagne and good food. For a long time, Merlin didn’t think they’d make it this far. He’d seen the end of plenty of wars in all his lifetimes, but this victory felt the sweetest somehow. At least until the next crisis arose, as they always did.

But he had Leon and Arthur, and they’d proven that the world should shudder at their combined strength.

Arthur slipped his hand into Merlin’s and squeezed gently. He rolled his eyes at the First Minister of Wales, who’d droned on for 15 minutes so far, and Merlin snickered into his nearly empty glass of champagne. Arthur called him a lightweight, and he supposed it was true, considering he passed tipsy at his second glass and was quickly heading to drunk. He deserved to let go, though, after everything they’d been through.

Swaying slightly, Merlin laid his head on Arthur’s shoulder and felt Leon’s steadying hand on his back. He just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid that would go into their long list of funny Merlin stories to tell.

The First Minister finished up his speech and raised his glass. The large audience followed suit, and they toasted their success, hard-fought and often heartbreaking but a success in the end, and that mattered most of all.

Fuck destiny. They’d faced it head on and come out the other side.

 


End file.
